#Awaken Tongues Mixtape

[ohsharethekmusic]

Song : Time To Move On (ft. Geonbae)

Artist : Simba Zawadi & Kenny Raw

Album {Mixtape} : The Late Night Mixtape

[mllx-anazra]

Lay All Your Love on Me (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - Smut)

Summary: Eddie's musical tastes do not include ABBA. You plan on changing that. By any means possible, even tempering with the sex times mixtape.

Read part.2 here, cross-posted on Ao3.

Warnings: Smut, explicit content so minors DNI, Eddie is a little shit, and you are a tease, lots of cussing, dirty talk, hope you like ABBA, I know I do bc Mamma Mia was my bisexual awakening (iykyk). First published smut in a while so be gentle.

Notes: Got sidetracked as I was writing part 4 of Tis the Damn Season. Technically this can be read outside of that series, but I wrote it as part of it. Also, I have ideas to make it a little series if y'all are interested. Enjoy!

That was it. Eddie had died and gone to heaven. There was no logical explanation other than this one to justify the state of pure bliss he found himself wrapped up in. 

You, half naked on his bed, skin burning on his tongue with every caress of his mouth, hands tugging most deliciously on his hair, your moans a sinful symphony he could only hear over Black Sabbath’s Snowblind thrumming through the walls of his trailer, as his fingers brought you closer and closer and closer to your fall. 

            This, this had to be heaven, indeed.

            “Oh Eddie, right there baby, right there! Don’t stop” how he wished he could burn the memory of your sweet pants at his very core. 

            “Got you angel, got ya. Are you gonna cum for me, mmh?”

Your eyes were screwed shut as pleasure steadily built in your core with each expert thrust of the metalhead’s fingers in your sex, his thumb exerting the most torturous pressure on your clit. 

            “Yes, yes, yesssss” you breathily chanted, your grip on Eddie’s glorious curls tightening as your orgasm crept, crept, crept. The previous song on your ‘fuck times’ playlist faded to an end and the click of the tape indicated the start of a new one. 

            The upbeat tone of a synch, abruptly clashing with the ballet of electric guitars and bass that characterized Black Sabbath, threw Eddie off his rhythm. As he kept working your body he knew better than the back of his hand, his mind slowly came back to his surroundings, and out of the sex trance, you had put him in with a glide of your finger along his throat as he tried (and failed) to focus on his chemistry homework moments prior. 

The beat was unmistakable even before the chorus started and indignant outrage spread in the metalhead’s bloodstream, as he whispered screamed, scandalized: 

            “Is that fucking ABBA?? In our sex playlist??”

You peeled your eyes open, repressing a frustrated whine at the loss of friction that caused your orgasm to bubble down to quizzically look up to Eddie:

            “Wha… Munson, did you just…?”

            “Answer the question!”

            “Yesssss, you dipshit it’s ABBA, got a problem with that??”

            “Uh, YEAH! I’m not fucking you with some pop bullshit in the background?”

It was your time to turn indignant, any prospect of coming snatched away as the first verse came to a close. You glared at him as your breath steadied once again. 

            “What, the fuck…”

            “I let it slide with The Smiths and that ONE song from Cindy Lauper, but fucking ABBA?? No, absolutely not. Absolutely fucking not. This is where I draw the line.” 

Eddie punctuated his rant by peeling himself off you, utmost disgust scrunching his face as he stood up and left you spread on his bed, panties skewed and top bunched down to reveal one breast he had been furiously biting and squeezing only minutes ago. You were too stunned to even register as he made his way back to his desk, still shirtless, and pulled out the previously discarded sheet of chemistry exercises. 

            “Making me all horny and shit just to blast some ABBA like it’s the fucking Snowball or something.” He mumbled still indignantly to himself, shaking his head. “What is this, your Aunt Claudia’s fucking birthday party?”

            “Munson,” you seethed, eyes burning holes in his head turned back to where you were still laying, the chorus blasting in Eddie’s cramped room. “If you don’t come back right this second to finish what you started, I swear to fucking Ozzy you will never, ever, get railed again!”

            “I am not, engaging in any form of sex while this blasphemy you dare call music and add to the mixtape we fuck to plays in the background. Either we turn it off, or we wait for the next track. Your pick, sweetheart.” He spat, as he scribbled with renewed vigor on the homework in front of his eyes, white knuckles gripping your pencil. 

            “You motherfu… What is WRONG with you??? Who does not like ABBA?” you yelled, throwing a pillow he daftly ducked.

            “I DON’T!!! Especially not when I’m trying to make you come!!!”

            “It’s a sexy song!!! Lay all your love on me, c’mon dickhead!” 

            “No, it’s not!!” he scoffed. “It’s fucking sappy and gross! I’m not coming back until it’s done,” his resolute tone making you scream into his remaining pillow, not for the reasons you had hoped. 

You huffed and puffed, kicking your feet like a petulant child, which was rich considering the sheer lack of emotional maturity the metalhead was demonstrating by denying you your well-earned right to orgasm. As the pre-chorus picked up, a delightful idea struck you, and you started humming the lyrics in rhythm with the song, prompting more annoyed grunts from Eddie’s crouched figure on his desk. 

            “Don’t go, wasting your emotions, lay all your love on meeee” you sang obnoxiously, slipping your top off and slowly working your breasts how Eddie would, if he was not up his metalhead high horses. Still, he refused to even glance on your direction, so you decided to ramp up your caresses and sing even louder. 

He rolled his eyes and pestered under his breath some more, trying to block out the rustling sound accompanying your singing. It proved fruitless as a ball of fabric whacked the side of his head, too tiny for him to clock out with the corner of his eyes. 

            “What the fuck are you…” his scathing retort dying on his throat as he took your fully naked form displayed on the bed, legs spread out as your fingers filled the void he had left. His eyes lowered back to the balled-up lace and satin material he was fisting in his hand, brain catching up with the fact you had thrown your underwear at his face and were now proceeding to touch yourself as ABBA still made his sensitive metalhead ears bleed. 

            “Don’t go, sharing your devotion, lay all your love on… Oh!” you interrupted your own rendition of the song as your fingers grazed that special place inside your core, moans replacing the lyrics and making Eddie’s blood rush down his pants. 

            “How d’you… Why d’you… Hey, hey, hey, stop!” his mouth struggled to form words as his eyes darted between your leaking slit, your fingers digging in the flesh of your breast, eyes blazing as you unabashedly let him know how much you were enjoying yourself. 

            “Nuh-uh. You said you wouldn’t touch me while the song plays, but luckily, I have taste and absolutely love ABBA,” proving your point by breathing out the last part of your cheeky response as you started working on your neglected clit. 

            This was a new form of torture and Eddie thought he would combust as he twitched to touch you, but the third verse was yet to be finished. How long could a fucking dumb pop ballad from Sweden be anyways?? Apparently too fucking much for his aching cock, strained against his pants as a vein threaten to pop on the side of his face, while he munched on his lower lip hoping it could be your skin. 

            How you were enjoying yourself, giving him a show and delectating on his turmoil, humming along the final chorus until your breath hitched and you shut your eyes once more, creeping up once again the agonizing wave of your pleasure. 

This prompted Eddie’s crumbling resolve to break, as he launched himself to the foot of the bed, begging as he went:

            “Please, please, please angel stop, and let me, let me replace those fingers by my tongue, hang in there and I’ll make you cum so fucking hard you’ll forget ABBA even exists, just wait for this fucking song to end and I’ll, I’ll…”

            His whiny pleas verging on hysterical led your swiftly to your downfall, the shock waves of your orgasm building and exploding across your body, a cry of pure ecstasy leaving your parted lips. The long-haired man cursed and whined high, as the fluids of your arousal lazily cascaded down your fingers to his sheets where he could not catch it as the song had yet come to an end. Like ABBA’s outro pleasurably faded away, you rode the waves of your climax with an unmatched satisfaction as you shot back, voice hoarse: 

            “That’ll teach you about broadening your musical horizons, you fucking snob.”

Eddie’s scoff quickly died down as he literally pounced on you the second the first notes of Iron Maiden could be heard through his speakers, tongue arching to take you right back to the height of pleasure. 

[breadoffoxy]

Hey Siri, Play Rap Line

Summary: It’s yours and your boyfriend’s dirty little secret that you play in his studio while he is working. He teases you with his work, making you a mess with that vibrator hidden in your pants. When his bandmates come in and try to help him find some inspiration, your secret and sanity are dangerously at stake.

Pairing: Yoongi x f. Reader, ft. Hoseok and Namjoon

Genre: Smut, NSFW, idol au

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, unsafe sex, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, language, dirty talk, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, sex toys, Namjoon has a low-key sir kink, group sex, foursome, kissing, Hoseok’s hips, use of female pronouns

Word Count: 5,490

A/N:  Happy valentines day!! @tipsydipsydo gave me this idea when I was writing the first part, and here it is, forever later. Made for Tipsy, @chelsea-chee​, and all my other rap line hoe friends.

Here you were sitting in your boyfriend's studio, yes your boyfriend. You can't believe that your friend who you had a massive crush on caught you masturbating to his mixtape wasn't creeped out and that you are now in a relationship. The situation was entirely embarrassing, utterly sexy, and now you have a good laugh every time you think about it. Plus, maybe getting turned on a lot.

Despite having Yoongi's tongue technology literally, you've kept the little sound to vibrations sex toy around. Your boyfriend is busy often enough, leaving you listening to his voice as he goes on tour or stuck in his studio or dance practice. The two of you also like to bring it into your coupled play, and have gotten quite brave with its use.

Like right now for instance. You aren't just sitting in your boyfriend's studio. You're sitting in your boyfriend's studio with your vibrator sitting inside your underwear, buzzing at your clit, teasing you as Yoongi starts and stops the edits he is working on. It's a maddening torture, you even had to charge the toy once since you've been here and still haven't cum.

Any time you try to reach your hand down to touch yourself where you need it most, Yoongi always seems to know and sends you a glare. You have no idea how he does it. It's like when dads who are watching sport games fall asleep but as soon as you change the channel, they are awake and yelling at you to turn it back because they were resting their eyes. It is making you increasingly frustrated, but you don't want your talented boyfriend to be distracted from his work so you are trying to be good and quiet.

When the door opens and Hoseok comes bursting through with Namjoon closing the door behind him, you know you are in trouble.

"Hey!" Hoseok's enthusiastic greeting as he sits next to you on the couch sends a spike in vibrations to your clit.

"H-hey!" Your voice comes out weird, and you hope you can pass it along as not speaking for a while. The squirm you make you camouflage as scooting down to make room for all your friends on the little couch. You’re praying so hard that they cannot hear or feel the vibrations coming from under your pants.

"How is it coming?" Peering over Yoongi's shoulder, Namjoon looks at the composition on the computer.

Yoongi hums, clicking through a few things before saying, "it’s coming, just slowly."

With a few more clicks the beats that have been driving you mad for hours plays once again. Namjoon and Hoseok listen intently, nodding along as the track progresses. Once it finishes the rappers are discussing ways to make it better. After they exhausted a few avenues, Hoseok turns towards you.

"What do you think? You've been in here all day too listening to it too right?"

"Me?" At Hoseok's encouraging nod you continue. "It's good like you said, but I agree it’s missing something." Looking Yoongi directly in the eye you add, "it just needs a little push to get the listeners over the edge."

Catching your double meaning, Yoongi raises an eyebrow challengingly and his smirk says he is quite amused. "What's a song with that push? Maybe it can give me some inspiration."

With the question turned back onto you suddenly, two sets of curious eyes focused on you, and one set pure evil makes you blank. It doesn't help that your body is focused more on your loins then your brain at the moment. "Uhhh...." think brain think!

Hoseok snaps his fingers, "Yes! Ugh, might be the answer. Let's play it."

With a few clicks Yoongi starts the song and Namjoon is adjusting the speakers so the song is booming. Your tall friend comes to sit on the other side of you, and you realized you are fucked. You are finally getting the vibrations you want from your toy, giving you the pleasure you so desperately crave. It's buzzing so heavily against your clit mercilessly that you can feel yourself approaching the edge so fast. Too fast after the whole day of it teasing you.

Instead of letting go like you desperately want, you try to reign in your senses despite all of them being completely haywire. Two of your friends are next to you, no idea there is a party happening inside your pants, and you hate how that turns you on even more. You look at your boyfriend with wide, pleading eyes.

Instead of helping you, Yoongi drives the nail into your casket by asking, "Are you ok, baby?"

His question brings the attention of Namjoon and Hoseok to you, and they finally notice that you are indeed acting a little off. Your breathing is heavy, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you fail to control it. You are biting heavily on your bottom lip, refusing to let any moans out, but they are waiting for an answer.

"Y-yeah I'm-" you take a deep breath in, failing to regain your nerves. "I'm fine." Your words do nothing to convince your two worried friends as you were most definitely not fine.

"Why don't you relax, you're so tense." Yoongi smirks at you, ignoring your indignant glare.

Hoseok looks between Yoongi and you, confused on the both of your attitudes. The situation adds up for Namjoon though once he sees you subconsciously rub your thighs together after a particularly strong beat. His jaw drops and he looks unbelievingly at you.

"Shit, are you...?" He trails off, staring at your chest before shaking his head. "Do we need to leave?"

"Leave? Why would we-" Hoseok starts until he sees you close your eyes and tilt your head back against the couch. The sight of your neck so exposed and the long exalted sigh that leaves you enchants him for a moment. He can't help but imagine what his hand would look like on your neck while you make that pleasured face..."Oh!"

Hoseok screams, jumping up from the couch. He points an accusing finger between Yoongi and you. "This whole time!?"

Yoongi shrugs at his friend making Hoseok guffaw at his nonchalance. Your boyfriend turns to you asking, "Do you want them to stay baby? To show them how good our music makes you feel hmm?"

You can't help but think back on when Yoongi caught you masturbating, and how hot it was. The memory sends a wave of arousal through you and you can feel how wet your underwear is. Apparently, you like showing off, and a new part of you has been awaken. It makes you feel powerful and embarrassed all the same time. The pressure in your core tightens at the thought of them watching you.

Opening your eyes, you look at your friends, trying to gauge their reactions. Namjoon is also biting at his lip with his hooded eyes fighting to stay on your own. He hasn't moved an inch, his body still so close to yours on the small couch. Hoseok gulps when you look at him, and he is staring at your lap. You slide your legs open, revealing a wet patch at the center of your jeans, making him curse under his breath.

"They can stay, but only if they want to." You answer breathily, looking back at your boyfriend.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, looking at his two friends for their answer. Namjoon runs a thumb across his lip, staring you down. “Show me.”

Hoseok is silent for a moment, and his stare doesn’t move from between your legs. He looks conflicted before he runs a hand through his hair and pulls at the stands.

“Hoseok,” you whine, immediately bringing his attention back up to your face. Your back arches as you so desperately want to come, but you can’t. Not until Hoseok gives his consent. “Please pick, I need- I need to ahh fuck.”

Your needy moans set Hoseok into motion and he’s back to sitting on the couch next to you. Him and Namjoon sit taking in every motion, breath, and moan you make. How your chest rises and falls with unrestrained pants, and how your hips are rocking back and forth trying to get friction against the pulsing vibrator.

“You like this don’t you, them watching?” your boyfriend’s voice cuts through your lustful mind.

“Yes,” you moan, staring at him with lidded eyes. Deciding to give them more of a show, you bring your hands up to cup your breasts, groping them above your clothes. You can feel the men beside you shift in their seats, trying to get more comfortable with their hardening cocks straining against their pants.

With a raspy voice your boyfriend orders, “Then come.”

As if waiting for his voice, your walls clench and euphoria overwhelms you as your orgasm finally hits. You can feel your release gushing out of you, soaking your underwear and jeans even further as your hips jerk wildly. Head tilting back, you moan so loudly that the vibrator picks it up even with the blaring music and convulses harder against your clit.  

With the music continuing to play in the background, your head too fucked out to pick up what it is that is playing anymore, the vibrator continues to pulse against your swollen clit. The pleasure starts to ebb away and it’s becoming too much that you start to get overstimulated.

“Ah, too much, too much.” Groaning your hands leave your breasts to reach for the hem of your pants. Before they can slip under, large hands grab them and pull them to the side. You stare wide eyed at Namjoon who continues to watch you whine and writhe. “Joon, it’s too much.”

“You wanted us to watch you come.” A husky voice growls in your ear. You gasp as Namjoon licks at your ear with a hot tongue before adding, “don’t be greedy now.”

Another hand adorned with rings comes to lay on your leg right above your knee. Slowly, it pulls your legs apart, you didn’t even realize you had them clenched so tightly together while fighting the overstimulation. The wet spot at your core is once again revealed to Hoseok’s hungry gaze. “Look at you, you are so sexy.”

“Ah, please it’s- oh god,” you moan as the pleasure continues to assault you. Your hips are once again rocking and you are not sure if it’s to escape or get closer.

A familiar hand strokes your cheek and you see Yoongi has rolled his chair up to sit in front of you. “Color?” Very early on in your relationship, Yoongi and you started using the color system to monitor the situation. Your heart beats happily knowing he is checking in on you.

“Green,” you pant out. You lean into his touch, lips grazing his palm. “And you?”

“Green,” Yoongi smiles at you fondly, a look that doesn’t quite match the scandalous situation happening in front of him.

His look once again makes your heart flutter and you moan as the vibrations to your clit turn from pain to pleasure. Namjoon’s previous words hit you and you gasp out, “Is it ok if I be greedy?”

Yoongi leans closer and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead, trails his lips down your nose, to press his lips against yours. You moan into the kiss and trail after Yoongi’s lips as he pulls away. “I love to spoil you.” He whispers before giving you a quick peck and rolling away on his chair.

When Yoongi stops his chair from moving and he looks at Namjoon and Hoseok, his look is serious and dark. “If you two play nice, you can do more than just watch. How does that sound?”

It’s silent for a moment until you sigh when fingers lightly trace up your neck, tickling your skin lightly. It surprises you that Hoseok is acting first after his previous hesitance. Gone is the look of your joyful sunshine friend and is replaced with the charismatic rapper who rules the stage. His fingers pass your chin and trace your soft lips, dipping them shallowly in your mouth. Gently, you nibble playfully on the tips of his fingers before swiping at them with your tongue. “You’re a little vixen, aren’t you?”

The question was obviously rhetoric as he stuffed his fingers further into your mouth. Your tongue wraps around a long digit and sucks down on it. Hoseok curses, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at Yoongi then you again. His ringed hand slides up and kneads your thigh. “I’ll play.” He looks to the other side of you and asks, “Joon?”

With a pop, you slide Hoseok’s fingers out of your mouth to get a good look at the other man. Namjoon is clenching his jaw tightly, looking like a man on his last straw. His voice is a strained whisper in your ear, “are you sure?”

Deciding to be even more bold, you pull your hands free from Namjoon’s hold to trail one up his leg and teasingly rub a finger along his bulge. The man looks like he stopped breathing. He is as still as a statue beneath your touch, but instead of being cold he feels so warm. Desire builds in you like an inferno. “Yes, sir.”

And there goes the final straw.

Hot, hungry lips take your own, devouring you whole. Namjoon eats up your screams as he presses a hand to your core, pressing the vibrator down even further against your clit, making the vibrations even stronger. You continue to mewl into his mouth as lips glide along your neck. Hoseok nibbles on your skin playfully much like you did his fingers, sucking on the base near the junction of your shoulder. He pulls on your shirt, signaling for you to raise your arms. You pull away from Namjoon’s lips just enough for the shirt to pass over your head.

Instead of returning to your lips, Namjoon’s mouth trails scorching kisses down your neck and to your collar bone, just above your cleavage. Hoseok makes quick work of your bra, and once your breasts bounce free, Namjoon resumes his descent, leaving a hot trail with his tongue as he licks at the swell of your breasts to your nipple.    

“She likes when you suck on them.” Yoongi speaks up, giving advice to the man pleasuring your breasts. You moan when Namjoon does what Yoongi says, and your hand weaves into his hair to push on the back of his head, encouraging him to go harder. With hooded eyes, you look at your boyfriend, moaning even louder when you see he has his cock out, stroking himself slowly as he watches the other men touch you.

“Hoseok, you want to show me how wet my girlfriend is now?” Yoongi drawls out.

Hoseok is quick to respond, hands deftly undoing the button and your pants and pulling your zipper down, revealing your underwear. Lifting your hips, both Hoseok and Namjoon work together to pull your pants down past your hip and you kick them off once it pulls at your ankles. Your soaking underwear does nothing to hide your wet, clenching pussy, as the vibrator continues to buzz with the music. Hoseok traces his fingers over the front of the oval vibrator down to your core, cursing at how hot and wet you feel just through the thin barrier of your underwear.

Namjoon reaches down and removes the vibrator, and you cry out, feeling devoid now that the constant buzzing driving you mad with pleasure has disappeared. You pull his hair in displeasure, and squeak once he places the vibrator against your other nipple, pleasure coursing through the erect nub. The look he sends you makes you loosen your hold on his hair, and take it as a warning to behave. He bites your nipple he’s sucking on for good measure to get his point across.

With you distracted, Hoseok pulls at your underwear, sliding them down your legs, and gathering them in a little ball. He tosses them towards Yoongi, who catches them, and runs the thin material between his hands, feeling how you soaked them so thoroughly. You watch spell bound as he brings the panties up to his face and inhales its scent deeply.

The spell is only broken when you feel Hoseok’s ringed hand cup your pussy, gathering up your arousal, and easily sliding one finger inside of you. “Oh fuck, you are so wet.” A second finger slides into you to start scissoring you. “And so fucking tight.”

You’re not sure how much longer you can keep on going with Hoseok’s fingers pounding into you, stretching you out so well, and Namjoon worshiping your breasts. Yoongi picks up on this too, and rolls his chair over to his desk, reddening cock still in his hand and soiled underwear discarded on his lap as he digs through the bottom door. He pulls out a bottle of lube and asks, “Which one of you wants some ass?”

Both men still their actions, staring at you with dark eyes. “Fuck, you really are a dream, aren’t you?” Hosoek rasps, brushing your hair back gently from your face.

Namjoon detaches his mouth from your nipple to turn towards Yoongi, reaching out his hand. “Give it here.”

Yoongi hands Namjoon the bottle and turns to Hoseok. “Why don’t you keep her nice, wet and needy, while Namjoon gets her ready?”

Hoseok is already in motion, turning and putting his feet up on the couch as wide as he can before Yoongi finishes speaking. His shirt goes flying and you barely have any time to admire his skin reveal before the dancer is pulling you into him. He leans back into the arm of the couch with you sitting between his legs and your back pressed against his chest. His legs wrap around yours, exposing your holes to Namjoon who is squeezing a thick glob of lube onto his fingers.

All of a sudden you feel shy as the cold air hits your wet core. Hiding your face into Hoseok’s neck, he once again brushes your hair and asks, “still green, darling?”

You kiss his neck in reassurance and gratitude before saying, “yeah, still green.”

Putting a hand on your neck, Hoseok nuzzles your head, encouraging you from your hiding place. Once you look away, you can feel your mouth salivate at the sight of Namjoon crouched in-between your legs. Once you are looking at him, he gently spreads your ass cheeks with one hand, and circles your tight asshole with a lubed finger. It’s cold and your hips buck at the sensation.

Distracted by Namjoon, you moan when you feel Hoseok’s hand once again stroking your pussy. He helps you relax, allowing Namjoon to slowly insert the tip of his finger into you, making you keen loudly.

“Does that feel good?” Namjoon smirks, twisting his finger.

“Ye- ahhhhh, yes, so nnngh fucking good.” You thrust your hips forward, trying to take more of their fingers into your needy holes.

Namjoon lowers himself further onto the couch, laying right in front of you. His warm breath hits your pussy as he slides his free hand under Hoseok’s arm that is busy fucking you and wraps it around your waist, keeping you still. The finger inside of you wags side to side as Namjoon tsks, “No, no, what did I say about being greedy?”

“But you can still seeeeeeahhhh,” Your words turn into a scream as a second finger is added into your tight asshole. You miss Namjoon’s satisfied grin as your eyes roll to the back of your head. It doesn’t help that Hoseok is curling his fingers into you in a come-hither motion, hitting just the right spot along your inner walls. Their fingers feel so good, you can’t imagine what it’ll be like with both their cocks.

“Oh my god, I’m going to come, I’m going to ahhhh,” you come hard, walls clamping down around their fingers, trying to suck them in as they finger you through your orgasm. Your body is shaking as your mouth is gaping out a now silent cry. If your vision wasn’t blurry from the overwhelming pleasure, you would appreciate the sight of Namjoon’s arm flexing to keep you still, and Hoseok’s veins bulging on his hand as he continues so snap his wrist as his fingers go in and out of you.

It takes a moment for you to come down from your high. Thankfully, Hoseok and Namjoon stop when you whine from overstimulation and don’t egg you on like last time you came. Blinking away the stars from your vision, you see Yoongi behind Hoseok. Your boyfriend reaches around his friend to smooth back your hair lovingly. “You’re doing so good baby. So good.”

Again, you lean into his touch, loving the intimacy he is bringing you to ground you from all the lust.

“Think you are up for one more?” Yoongi asks softly, and while you are exhausted you find yourself nodding. You can’t get the idea of their cocks out of your head, and you crave them so bad.

In the same tone of voice, Yoongi asks, “while they are spoiling you, think you can spoil me?”

Your attention is brought to the straining, leaking, cock in his hand. You lick your lips at the sight. “I think we can work something out.”

It hits you then that you aren’t really sure of the logistics of such a position. Sure, you’ve seen porn of gangbangs before but you never thought you’d be in such a situation. You bite your lip uncertain at what you should do next.

“Don’t worry baby, we got you.” Yoongi reassures you, reading you like a book. “Why don’t you stand up really quick.”

Namjoon stands, helping you off Hoseok. Your legs feel like jelly and you lean into him for support. “Want to help me out?” The broad man waves the bottle of lube at you and you grab it, pouring a generous amount on your hand. Once you are steadier on your feet, Namjoon lets go of you, grabbing the end of his shirt and lifting it over his head in one smooth motion. You can’t help but stare at his chest and he grins knowingly and eats up your attention.

Ever so slowly to tease you, he unzips his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear. His cock springs free and your eyes grow wide at his girth as he steps out of his clothes. Reaching out, you grab his cock, feeling the heavy weight of it in the palm of your hand experimentally. “You’re going to rip me apart.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow, and that’s what the lube is for too.” Namjoon places his hand on yours and guides it up and down his cock, spreading the lube around diligently. He winks at you cheekily, making your heart race. In retaliation, you swipe at his tip with your thumb, making his breath stutter. He sends you that same warning look as before, and you stop, not wanting to risk challenging when his huge cock is about to be stuffed in your asshole.

With Namjoon’s cock thoroughly lubed, you turn back to the couch, and your mind blanks at the sight of seeing Hoseok naked and splayed out on the couch. He is laying on his side, his legs open to reveal his long cock, with his head propped up by his arm. It’s Hoseok’s turn to now wink at you playfully as you ogle him.

A finger taps on the bottom of your chin, closing it from where you were practically drooling at your friend. Namjoon chuckles and nods his head towards Hoseok. “Why don’t you get on? Careful, he has dancer hips.”

Hoseok rotates his hips and thrusts into the air in a rapid succession at hearing Namjoon’s commentary. He laughs as you gulp, and beckons you over with a finger, the same way he moved his hand while inside of you. On shaky legs, you saunter back over to the couch, and Hoseok shifts to lie on his back. You expose your cunt to Hoseok briefly when you swing your leg over the dancer to straddle his hips and he swears under his breath.

“You’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?” Hoseok hisses as you slowly sink down on his cock.

Your too busy gaping as his cock stretches you out to answer so your now also very naked boyfriend answers for you, “She’s good at doing that.”

After having time to adjust, you rock your hips against Hoseoks, making the both of you groan. He bucks up into you and you cry out, as he copies the hard thrusts he was doing earlier. Gradually he slows down, and you feel familiar hands spreading your ass cheeks once again.

“Take a deep breath for me.” Namjoon moves a hand to your back, pushing you gently until you are laying on top of Hoseok.

The dancer below you swivels his hips gently and you leave kisses along his chest to help distract yourself at the prodding hardness at your rear. Ever so slowly Namjoon enters you, and you whine. Despite your preparation you feel the sting of the stretch of his cock as it fills you out. Never had you been so full before, it’s almost too much.

“Breathe.” Your boyfriend’s voice is pulling you back, his hands on your cheeks lift your head. “Breathe.” He repeats and you take a deep breath, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Color.”

“Yellow.” You whimper, and all movement stops. “I’m ok, I just- ah just need some time to adjust.”

“You’re doing so well baby, so well.” Yoongi whispers comfortingly, and gives you soft kisses all across your face. Comforting hands rub circles into your hipss and back, soothing you as you adjust.

“Do you need me to take it out?” Namjoon asks behind you, worry lacing his tone.

You reach behind you, rubbing his thigh reassuringly. “You’re good, just so fucking big.”

He chuckles at that, and gives you a small sorry.

A few more moments pass and the sting goes away. You give an experimental move of your hips, and Namjoon, Hoseok, and you groan at the pleasure caused from your movement. “I’m good now, back to green.”

“You sure?” Yoongi asks, checking you over cautiously.

“Green, green, green,” you repeat, kissing Yoongi after each ‘green’, appreciating that he’s making sure you are safe.

After giving your all clear, the two men with their cocks stuffed inside of you start moving slowly in tandem.

“Ahhhnnnggh fuck, so good, yes, yes, yes,” you start chanting, never having felt so full before. Their pace picks up and you feel utterly wrecked with Namjoon’s massive cock and Hoseok’s erratic hips thrusting into you. You see stars in your vision as you nearly fall limp on top of Hoseok. Instead, you rest his arms on his chest, asking if it was ok. Hoseok moans out a yes, looking as much fucked out as you were. You don’t blame him with the obscene amount you are clenching around him due to his and Namjoon’s handiwork.

“You’re turn honey,” you pant out, stretching further along Hoseok so you can reach your boyfriend’s cock.

Yoongi stands, and runs a hand through your hair caringly. He weaves his hands through your strands and guides your head towards his hard cock, where you lick teasingly at the tip. The deep groan he makes is music to your ears, and you slowly engulf him into your mouth.

Ok, new statement. Now you have never felt so full before with three cocks stuffed into your holes. It’s so much, but you need more. You really are greedy.

Breathing through your nose deeply, you take Yoongi further into your mouth, deep throating him. His grip in your hair tightens and he curses, but his hips say perfectly still. He’s fighting so hard for control, not wanting to hurt you, letting you go at your own pace up and down his cock. Though he accidentally bucks forward softly when a hand comes to play with his balls. Looking down, Yoongi sees Hoseok grin cheekily at him as he continues his ministrations.

Under the loud tones of the music still playing on the speakers and your vibrator buzzing on the couch now quite forgotten, there is the sound of skin slapping on skin as two sets of hips thrust into you, quicker and quicker as time pasts. You let out your moans unashamedly as you suck Yoongi’s cock. Hoseok is the loudest out of the three men, panting underneath you and moaning when you clench around him, which is a lot. Namjoon whispers words of praise in your ear with a raspy voice with the occasional deep grunt.

One thing you have found out about Yoongi after sleeping with him multiple times is that he almost seems to purr when he is experiencing pleasure. It’s quiet, but you love feeling the rumble of it in his chest. Every now and then he’ll also let out a deep groan or moan a curse word in his deep voice. You always found that so sexy.

The pressure inside you keeps building up, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You want so desperately to fall over the edge, to experience that climax, but you also never want to let this feeling go. So full, so stretched, so loved, so powerful. You were getting your mind fucked out so well.

Hoseok’s hips stutter under you and you know he is getting close. You grind down on him a little harder and it doesn’t take long until he’s exploding inside of you. His hips may have lost their rhythm but it doesn’t stop his ferocity as he fucks his cum into you. You feel his seed sliding out of you and back onto his cock as he continues, determined to help you reach your own high.

It doesn’t take much longer until your screaming, ripping your mouth from Yoongi’s cock as your own orgasm hits. Your walls convulse wildly for a third time and you collapse back onto Hoseok, the both of you writhing as you ride your high. Namjoon follows suit soon after, not lasting long with how your muscles were fluttering around his own cock as well. It didn’t help that yours and Hoseok’s moans set him off as well.

You lay squished between Hoseok and Namjoon, each of you breathing heavily from your powerful orgasms, and are now laying in a pile of entangled limbs. Hoseok continues to massage Yoongi’s balls and Namjoon reaches over you to grab Yoongi’s cock, pumping him hard and fast. You watch entranced as your friends get your boyfriend off, making a heavenly moan rip from his parted lips.

“Come for me baby,” purring, you look your boyfriend in the eye.

Much like how his words drove you over the edge earlier, yours do the same to him. Hot white cum shoots from his cock, spraying most of Namjoon’s back, but some lands on you and Hoseok. The men keep up their attention to Yoongi until he has no more to give and he whines, pulling back from the couch.

You hiss when Namjoon slides out of you, and your ass now feels sadly empty. He once again helps you off Hoseok and lies you down on the other side of the couch. Hoseok sits up, allowing you more room and his eyes rank over your exhausted, fucked out body.

“Have I told you, you are amazing?” Hoseok whispers with adoration in his voice.

Giggling you nod, “Yeah, it’s come up once or twice.”

A warm blanket is carefully draped over you and you cuddle into it. “Thank you Joonie.”

The man runs a hand through your hair before he starts getting dressed. He makes a comment about getting some towels and heads out of the studio.

“Ah, that man. I don’t think he realizes his shirt is inside out.” Hoseok laughs, and hurries to get dressed. “If anyone else sees him like that they’ll know something was up. I’ll go cover him,” and then he is out the door leaving you alone with your boyfriend.

Yoongi sits on the side of the couch, hand instantly reaching out for yours which you intertwine with your own. “You good.”

“Yeah, and you?” You smile, feeling giggly from all your orgasms.

“That was seriously so fucking hot.” He grins, rubbing circles into the back of your palm with this thumb.

“I know right.” You kick the now dead vibrator off the couch. “This thing gets me into so much trouble.”

“Good trouble, right?” Yoongi asks as he sweeps down slowly you kiss you sweetly on the lips.

“The best.”

[chimchimeri]

On the Coffeetable

Yoongi x Reader

Smut, fluff

“Not now, babygirl.” Yoongi’s voice is warm but allows for no further discussions. It sounds like he is talking to a dog that wants to play instead of his girlfriend. You fall back on the sofa with a sigh and stare at the ceiling of the studio. “Killjoy”, you mumble, but your fiancé is already immersed in his music again and doesn’t react to your words.

It’s been four months since the two of you got engaged, and one month since you last spent some quality time together. Yoongi’s been busy with organizing his new mixtape and BTS’ upcoming album, and he’s been composing almost all day for the past four weeks. He’s lucky you are a pretty patient person, but he doesn’t seem to be willing to give you his attention anytime soon, and it’s slowly pissing you off. Plus, you miss intimacy. Yoongi, apparently, doesn’t too much.

“Babe”, you whine half an hour later – half an hour that you spent alternating between scrolling through Instagram and staring at the ceiling, whereas your boyfriend hasn’t even taken a sip of his coffee that’s now grown cold next to him. Yoongi’s sigh clearly tells you that you have disrupted him again. “What?”, he asks, dissatisfaction lacing his voice, and you roll your eyes. “It’s fine”, you grumble, deciding that it’s not worth a fight. “Keep working.” Yoongi doesn’t even bother to reply. Instead, he switches on his keyboard and starts on the background notes for one of his songs. You turn around and pout. Your boyfriend doesn’t notice.

Another one and half an hour later, you’re thoroughly fed up. Yoongi hasn’t spoken another word since then, and now you’re really fucking pissed. You drop your phone on the desk next to the sofa carelessly and approach him, wondering why he asked you to join him in the studio in the first place if he’s not going to pay attention to you. “What you doing”, you mumbled while you sling your arm around his shoulders from behind and rest your chin on his shoulder, looking at his screen. Yoongi is surprised, you notice from the nearly unnoticeable flinch that runs through his body, and you see his face harden from the side. “Babygirl”, he says, now thoroughly trying to not snap at you, “I’m working.” Your grip around his shoulders tightens unwillingly. “I can see that”, you whisper, sharp disappointment evident in your tone. This time, the young man notices, and finally deems you worthy of a short look. “Do you miss me that badly?”, he asks, a slight smile flickering on his face. You can hear his amused undertone and it makes you snap. “I’m leaving”, you practically spit the words out and pull yourself from his body to turn around and grab your jacket.

Yoongi’s fingers close around your arm and he forces you to face him again. “Come here”, he mumbles, something other than anger and amusement dancing in his eyes now, and twirls around in his chair. “Sit. Facing me.” His eyes leave you no choice but to obey, slowly sliding onto his lap. But instead of leaning forward and kissing you, finally giving you some attention after a whole day of ignorance, Yoongi looks at you for a few seconds before he twirls around in his chair again, your body now trapped between him and his desk and keyboard. Yoongi’s breath calmly fans over the side of your neck, his face hovering above your shoulder. “Sorry I’m so busy recently”, he murmurs quietly before he raises his hands and plays a few tunes on the piano. Though this situation isn’t what you expected, you’re content with simply being close to him. Thus you rest your head on his shoulder and nuzzle into his hoodie which smells like fresh detergent, body warmth and Yoongi, and then you listen to the soft tunes that he is oh so effortlessly playing. You can’t see them, but in your head, you can exactly imagine the way his slim fingers practically dance over the keys, the abrupt yet elegant lift of his wrist when he changes the chord, the way he closes his eyes sometimes and just gets absorbed in the sound of his favourite instrument.

You’re in a haze of Yoongi’s music when the young man suddenly rubs his cheek against your head and softly kisses your hair. “I miss you too, you know”, he mumbles over the simple, calm piece he’s playing – a piece, you have a feeling, that he’s playing just for you. Yoongi is soft on the inside, you know that much, he just gets a bit irritable and insensitive when it comes to his work. But his display of affection awakens an urge within you; you raise your head from his shoulder and lean back a bit so you can look into his dark eyes, and then you lean forward. Your fingertips dance over his face just like his are flying over the keyboard. Yoongi knows how to perfectly play the piano, and you are the one who knows how to perfectly play Yoongi. Your hands engulf his face, stroking past his cheekbones into his hair, and Yoongi takes a sharp breath just before you let your lips softly melt against his. The kiss is sweet perfection, and you feel a small moan building in your throat at the feeling. Yes, you missed this. You also missed the way Yoongi now wraps one of his arms around your waist and pulls you a tad bit closer, only five fingers left to play away a simple tune on the piano, and that’s only until you force your lips onto his mouth even more determinedly and he finally gives in. The piano falls silent as both of his hands now run up and down your back. When you pull back again, Yoongi’s eyes are black and he stares at you with an intensity that makes you swallow. “Babygirl”, he rasps. It doesn’t take anything more than that.

Yoongi clears the coffee table with one swipe of his arm, empty cups, pens and sheets of messy notes falling to the ground while you pull your shirt over your head. Your fiancée turns around and when he sees you half naked, a low growl escapes his mouth and he harshly pulls you close by your waist. His lips glide over your cheek towards your ear and with a rough voice he whispers: “You’re so beautiful.” You can feel the heat flushing your cheeks and huff to hide your embarrassment. “Just…”, you start, but Yoongi already forces his lips on yours and while his right palm slides into your neck, his left hand skillfully pops the button on your jeans and pulls them down. His fingertips run over the cloth of your underwear and you choke out a moan, but Yoongi’s not in the mood to wait. Without breaking the kiss, he forces you down on the coffee table, tongue hushing your quiet whines. Only then does he pull back, face just as beautifully flushed as yours, and looks at you with sparkling eyes for a few heartbeats before his thumb hooks into the seam of your bra and pulls it down. The blackness in his pupils is overwhelming; he leans down and teases your nipple with his teeth. “How long has it been?”, he murmurs against your chest, both hands now holding your hips in position, the vibration of his deep voice on your chest making you shiver. “A few… weeks”, you manage to get out and he leaves a soft bite on your right breast. “Too long?”, he inquires further with his voice muffled against your skin, lips now moving downward very slowly, and you whimper. “Yes”, you hiss between gritted teeth just when his mouth reaches your lower abdomen, pressing chaste kisses onto your inner thighs. “We can’t have that”, Yoongi dryly continues and rips your panties apart with one swift movement, his mouth landing on your folds just a second later.

You’re not actually sure if Yoongi knew about his skills when he rapped about his ‘tongue technology’, but you can’t deny the fact that he’s pretty brilliant at eating you out. He softly nibbles on your clit, hands relentlessly spreading your legs for better access, and starts softly sucking on it just a second later. Heat and cold mix in your body and your head lulls back as the emotions overwhelm you, but your fiancée is not willing to let you cum that easily. Just before you think you’re not gonna make it any longer, he pulls back. When you look at him with a swaying glance, his lips are glistening and he licks your wetness off of them with a sly look on his face. “That good?”, he purrs, his voice sounding a bit strained and giving away just how much he must be controlling himself by now. You fall back, back arching as it meets the cold surface of the table, and relax a little. “Yeah”, you hum, but the tickling sensation hasn’t vanished from your abdomen yet and you lift your head a bit to throw Yoongi a fucked out smirk. “But I’d be disappointed if that was all.”

Yoongi’s jaw muscles tighten and he stares you down, towering in front of you. “You…”, he begins, but apparently finds himself at a loss for words. Instead he growls a quiet “Fuck” and zips open his pants. There’s a fire burning in his eyes which you haven’t seen in a long time, and your mouth turns dry at the sight. Cold fingertips stroke over your thighs, the blood apparently busy somewhere else, and Yoongi kicks off his jeans while leaning over you, his lips meeting yours halfway as you prop yourself up on your elbows. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the glass surface of the table, shoving himself between your legs and teasing your folds before slowly, slowly sliding into you. His length stretches your walls and being abstinent for so long causes you to nearly cum immediately. You throw your head back at the tingles that his slow strokes send up and down your body and you can feel your vision shifting. Yoongi chuckles. “Not so fast, baby”, he hums, his movements quickening as he pounds into you at a steady pace. You can feel your abdomen clenching around him, but you don’t know if it’s to heighten the pleasure or to stop the sensations from making your body go weird.

Your fiancée groans and suddenly stops. “So tight”, he presses lowly, nails digging into your hips and pulling you closer to him, changing the angle in the process and making you whimper out loud. He starts moving again, little grunts and raspy moans falling from his lips while he fucks you, and the studio fills with more and more lewd sounds. Unable to bear it, you clasp your hands over your mouth to stop yourself from being so noisy, and Yoongi clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Take them off”, he growls, and when you don’t move, he snarls, pulls out and flips you onto your stomach. “Fine”, he hisses, presses his hand into your back and pins you to the table as he slides right in again, this time hammering into you at your favourite speed and angle, and not even your hands prevent you from crying out loud this time. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Your voice gets more high-pitched with every stroke and it sends shivers down Yoongi’s spine, and then you finally melt onto the table, colourful explosion rushing through your whole body and taking him with it. He groans and his fingers splay out on your back while the both of you ride the wave together until you’re finally done and Yoongi can pull himself out of your clenching core.

“Baby”, he breathes, just as fucked out as you, and sinks to his knees, but not without slowly peeling you from the table and into his arms. The air is hot and smells like sex and sweat, and being close to Yoongi doesn’t make it any better, but you’re still not in any position to complain. Instead, you sink against his heavily heaving chest and press a slow kiss onto his sweaty skin. “That was amazing”, you mumble, and Yoongi huffs a rough laugh. A moment of silence forms while the both of you catch your breath, and then you dare to steal a glance up to your man, his blissful expression causing you to kiss his collarbones. “Are you gonna get back to work now?”, you ask, throat hurting from all the moans and whimpers earlier. Yoongi returns your glance without any change in his expression for a few seconds, but then his lips twitch and form a warm smile.

“No, babygirl”, he says, one finger lifting your face to his for a soft kiss. “I don’t think so.”

[mathryoshka]

Bench Flower. | 3

42, the number that represents the answer to mankind’s curiosity towards life, universe, and everything. —The Hitchhiker Guide to The Galaxy.

genre: angst, friendship.

chapter(s): ¾.

summary: during pre-debut days, 3RACHA encounters empty hopes. it’s up to them to sink or conquer. (insp: track 42 by 3RACHA. (listen here )

CB97 // J-ONE // SPEARB // 3RACHA.

Spear-B.

At 3 in the morning, Changbin wakes up to the sound of hurried footsteps outside his dormitory room, his head spinning with the pressure of headache. His tear-stained face is red from being desperately wiped. There’s something else in his dreams that night—an element of creepiness has interfered all the rainbows and laughter.

He’s in a surreal dream. The deep-voiced man is placed amidst a room with pure darkness consuming the edges. There’s nothing ahead of him but two prisons in which held two persons in captive. Changbin’s vision is quite hazy due to his overwhelming torpor, but he manages to learn the crooks of each prisoner’s pallor. On the left side stands a younger version of him, donning his old favorite shirt with the least of illustration. He’s clawing at the iron bars, childishly whimpering for help. Looking straight to him is like staring directly at an old photograph of Changbin—that one particular snap that captured a moment when his sister took a toy from his hands. On the right side stands an older version of Changbin, cleanly shaved but his hair isn’t neatly trimmed. He smiles a crooked smile at him, sending shivers down Changbin’s spine. Something doesn’t feel right. He’s amidst a dream, but it feels genuine. Reality clasps him within its coercion so tight that he’s dripping cold sweat.

The iron clinks lightly, and two sets of eyes stare right at him. It’s their turn to study the black circles beneath Changbin’s eyes, and the hollow orbs that are left dim.

“The one who pursued music.” The older rejoinders, his dark glare a burden to Changbin’s shoulder. “Music is hopeless, tasteless. Give up the fight,” “Surrender.” The younger remarks. “He had travelled your path. You will get lost.“

At first, Changbin feels no intimidation from the duress. However, comes a question like no other, gradually breaking through his walls. “Enlighten me. How did music treat you?”

Honestly speaking, his music is lacking of progress. Some may call it colorless, some may call it ordinary. Some has mentioned the worst, even Jisung can’t get the criticism out of his head. Mixtapes and workrooms—there has been not much compliments from general listeners of hip hop. No tip to hold onto, no suggestions to seek for. The view counts linger the same, with a plain zero adorning the comment platform. ‘Should we give up?’ Even the captain has said one day, as the three stares blankly at their online profiles, daydreaming of fame. Changbin and Jisung have responded him with a meaningful silence, unable to form a reassuring sentence. It’s their worst downfall that day. Chan has excused himself to the restroom, slipping out the recording section without his phone. Changbin’s sure he’s about to shed a tear, fighting against his own demons alone. Changbin wills to reach out, to pull him close and hug him tight. But Changbin has his own demons to deal with, thereby he slips out too, leaving Jisung alone with scattered notes full of lyrics and poor arrangements. As he exits the recording room, he hears the papers being crumpled in the hands of no other but the happy virus of the group.

He’s in a surreal dream. Changbin’s on the verge of giving up their passion. They all are. When he looks into the eyes of the older, he sees his future. Dark and uncertain, possibly alight with the least of success. Despite the loneliness creeping under, Changbin senses life from the younger. The younger feels no pain of adulthood, for he never experience such torment. Notwithstanding his silver-tongue, Changbin learns something from the way his ears perk up at the word “music”, the way he tries to conceal his fervor when it comes to his dreams. For a brisk moment he’s reminded of his family—of how his father keeps on supporting him in spite of his doubts, of how her sister stroke his head to comfort his pain. There’s still hope left in every inch of memory, and Changbin clings to it in order to defend his passions from the deary touch of his own demons. Taking a deep breathe, the man says; “It’s fine.” Changbin shifts his gaze from the two prisoners respectively, a tired smile plastered on his thin lips. “Even when the world can’t elaborate death, I will still be holding onto my childhood dreams.”

For a fleeting moment, the prions go blurry. From where the darkness lurks, comes a ray of light that envelopes nine odd figure in total with its dimness. From such distance, he can only make Chan’s, Jisung’s and his face—the rest of the boys are too shadowed to be acknowledge. This time, he faces the exact replica of him holding out a refined purple heliotrope for him to scramble for—and he is drawn to the pride smeared upon his sharp face—the way his jaw is raised high with devotion. “Music never fail,” His reflection says in a voice that comes out from his mouth everyday, in an accent extremely familiar to his ears.

Sprinting past the poorly lit prison boxes is Changbin, his arms outstretched to grasp the flowers tight. I want to make them proud. I want to touch everyone’s heart, Through my music—our music.

Changbin is fully awakened by someone shouting Chan’s name. He exits his room running, worried of what’ve occurred during his fracas against his own demons.

[phoenixtsukino]

Army Challenge – Five Favorite Solos* (2/5)

↳ Agust D by Agust D aka Suga

♫ I’m the guy who shoves his junior or senior who copies from copiers Doesn’t matter if I’m nasty or if I’m a wack or fack, I’m the guy that will carve history on the ground Always getting more light among other hopeless rappers The raquet caused by the jealous hyungs who are scared I’d take away their source of income with my fame

Hey ho I don’t give a shit when you’re busy being a moron I will simply bury you alive in the grave you dug out yourself Hey ho you can’t handle me You wasted rappers should be grateful that I’m an idol

Cause I’m busy i’m busy 24/7 what rest? I hope those idiots who have lost their opportunities keep each other company Those childish and jealous people don’t realize what’s important Paris to New York damn my non stop schedule

A to the G to the U to STD I’m D boy because I’m from D I’m the crazy guy, the lunatic on beat Sending listeners to Hong Kong with my rap my tongue technology ♫

* For solos, I’m counting any song performed by a single member. This includes solo mixtape tracks (i.e. The Last, Awakening, Joke, etc), Wings album solos (i.e. Begin, Lie, Stigma, etc), and Intros (i.e. Never Mind, Boy Meets Evil, What Am I to You?, etc). *

[dawnstruck]

and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart

“I saw you at the arcade, with all those loud and envious boys around you as you bested everyone's scores, and my screen just kept blinking K.O. back at me. Knocked out, game over, and I was all out of pennies.”

Shiro/Keith 1980s AU, feat. car sex and soldier!Shiro

Soundtrack: Hold Me Close by Johnny Logan

Read onAO3

Shiro brings him bellflowers, more purple than blue and and somewhat reminiscent of stars.

“The reminded me of your eyes,” he says, pressing the bouquet into Keith's hands.

“Don't be so cheesy,” Keith mutters, but cradles the flowers against his chest anyway.

He should probably go and find a vase to display them or, better yet, some heavy books to press and preserve them. But somehow it makes more sense to keep them right here, at his fingertips.

“Shall we?” Shiro asks with a small gesture. Behind him, his black Chevy gleams under the suddenly awakening street lights.

“Yeah,” Keith says and lets the door fall shut.

Shiro waits for him on the curb, opens the door on the passenger side with a wink and a little bow, but Keith resists the urge to stick his tongue out at him and only glares a little.

They don't do this generally, this open kind of courting. They don't get to hold hands when they go for walks, only let their elbows brush against each other now and then. Even now, a part of Keith wants to glance around to check whether the curtains in one of the neighboring houses are moving, whether anyone is watching them. But he just ducks into the car and digs his jittery knees into the underside of the dashboard.

Shiro rounds the car which dips a little when he gets into the driver's seat. He doesn't kick up the engine right away, fumbles with the radio instead, until a guitar strums through the silence between them.

For a moment, Keith just listens.

“Is that new?” he asks, watching as Shiro's turns the key in the ignition.

“Yeah,” Shiro says, one hand disengaging the parking brake while the other spins the steering wheel around, before pulling away from the sidewalk. “Had a fella at the barracks record it for me. But I picked most of the songs.”

Keith frowns slightly, slowing understanding the implications of that.

“Do they...?” he begins, unsure on how to end the question without sounding too presumptuous, too entitled.

“Know that I'm seeing someone?” Shiro finishes for him, easily bobbing his head in reply, “Yeah, they do. Kinda hard to keep it a secret if I always drive to town with them but never actually join them at the bar.”

Keith licks his lips to stall himself but, in the end, his curiosity wins out.

“What did you tell them then?” he wants to know and Shiro pretends to think about it.

“Hm, let's see,” he muses, giving Keith a very obvious once-over where he is leaning with his elbow against the window. “Spitfire with a sharp tongue. Dark hair. Great legs. Kisses like it's going out of fashion.”

The blush is hot and tingly on Keith's cheeks and he ducks his head. From underneath his fringe, he can see that Shiro is still looking at him, a fond smile playing around his lips.

“They are all very jealous,” Shiro adds, “And I am very lucky.”

“Eyes on the road, asshole,” Keith says and grins into the hollow of his hand.

The drive-in cinema is located at the outskirts of town. They are early and it is still relatively empty but Shiro doesn't pull up close to the large screen, just parks them somewhere off to the side. Keith doesn't comment. They both know that this is not about the movie.

The horizon in the West is still the color of withering plum blossoms but, all around them, night has already fallen like dark silk.

Keith thinks of the couples in the other cars. The ones who are on their first date, full of promises and potential, and the ones for whom it's just one of many, indistinguishable from the rest. For some, it might be the last, the day a fight is not resolved, when tempers run too hot and callous words are spoken.

Theirs is a last date, too, Keith knows, but in a very different manner.

The mixtape is still playing and they've got the windows rolled down, cicadas clamoring outside in their summer desperation, but in Keith's ears it fades into nothing but static when Shiro opens his mouth.

“I saw you at the arcade first,” he says, hands on the wheel as though it were an anchor instead, “I saw you at the arcade, with all those loud and envious boys around you as you bested everyone's scores, and my screen just kept blinking K.O. back at me. Knock out, game over, and I was all out of pennies.”

Keith hadn't known this, hadn't even suspected, and the air sits heavy in his chest as he listens.

“When I saw you at the library later that week, I knew I had to talk to you. You were standing on your tiptoes and reaching all the way up to the top shelf and I just thought, damn, if only he were a little shorter I could offer to help him. But you got your book and, when you turned around, you caught me staring.”

“You looked so dumb.”

“You mean enamored.”

“Same difference.”

Keith had been researching for a presentation in his Biology class, something about ecosystems and homeostasis and the danger of upsetting the fragile balance by introducing a foreign species. Shiro had offered to help him and they had talked all afternoon, till the library closed, and then they had gone to the diner instead and talked some more. Keith had barely gotten a C on the presentation but it had been worth it.

“I felt so bad when I realized you were still in high school,” Shiro adds now, thumping his head against the backrest of the seat, “Like a cradle robber.”

“You are literally two years older than me.”

“Still,” Shiro groans and, for a moment, he keeps his eyes closed.

“Do you regret it?” Keith asks. It's difficult to swallow around the lump in his throat, difficult to breathe around the heart in his chest.

“I regret not talking to you right there at the arcade,” Shiro says. When he turns to look at Keith, his gaze is clear. “Because I would have had one more week of knowing your voice and your name and how mine sounds in your mouth.”

The movie begins just as the mixtape runs out. Shiro reaches out, flips the cassette around in its slot, and presses Play for the B-side.

Keith taps his fingers against the still August-warm paintjob of the Camaro and then pulls his arm inside to roll up the window. Next to him, Shiro is doing the same.

Gone are the movie, the cicadas, the world. Here, no wars are fought.

The kiss is as easy, as natural as everything else between them, just like their first kiss by the lake. For the first time in a long time, Keith feels that old shyness, that uncertainty of tongue and lips and eyelids. He sighs through his nose, opens his mouth, and surrenders.

The handbrake digs into his thigh and he shifts a little, tries to get closer anyway. In the distance between their bodies hangs the knowledge that this will be over before the sun rises.

Soon, Shiro's hands are on Keith's chest, running up and underneath the red jacket that will always faintly smell of the mothballs at the thrift store where they had found it together. The lining of the faux leather is warm with Keith's body heat and Shiro rubs his thumb along the exposed collarbone. With one last push, he brushes the jacket off Keith's narrow shoulders.

Keith, daring in return, hooks his fingers into the waistline of Shiro's pants, thumbs at the button above the fly. Shiro pulls back from the kiss.

“Keith,” he begins, sounding regretful and responsible, and Keith cannot bear it.

“I don't-” he tries, fails, tries again, “I want-”

But he doesn't know what he wants. Shiro's hands all over him. Imprints on his skin. A change, a memory. Too many things at once, too many to name. Most, though, he will never get.

But maybe Shiro understands. Maybe he feels the same. He purses his lips and gives a little nod, before reaching out to open the glove compartment, a pack of condoms and a bottle of lubricant neatly stashed up front. Keith cannot help but cock an eyebrow.

Shiro gives a defeated chuckle.

“Of course I want it, too,” he admits to the wordless accusation, “Of course I want you.”

So they climb into the back of the car, too many limbs and too little space. The bouquet of bellflowers is still propped up on the seat behind Keith's, their fragrance dusting the air underneath the stronger scent of worn leather.

Undressing is awkward. Keith's jeans are too tight and his boots have too many laces, but Shiro worries at them with patient fingers until they come undone, until he can smooth the heel of his hand across Keith's ankle, ghost his lips against the inside of his knee.

Keith suppresses a small gasp when Shiro's mouth moves up further along his thigh. They've never gone anywhere near this far, not with all their clothes off, not when all their moments were stolen from what little time Shiro got to spend away from the barracks.

“Do you know how to do this?” Shiro asks, pressing a wrapped condom into Keith's hand.

Numbly, Keith shakes his head. He's heard enough about it, but none of it had contained detailed instructions.

“I thought... you were gonna...,” he says, unsure quite how to phrase it. Shiro smiles, dips a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I will,” he promises, “But I want to blow you first.”

With a gentle voice, he leads Keith through all the steps, one hand on his hipbone, and when that is done he bends down his head and wraps his lips around the head of Keith's cock.

The breath stutters out of Keith like a natural disaster and he scrambles for Shiro's bare shoulders, for something to hold on to.

Shiro doesn't flinch at the strong taste of latex, even though Keith's nose had crinkled in disgust. He just bobs up and down in slow measured motions, presses his tongue against the underside, spit dripping down his chin.

“Shiro,” Keith warns, breathless, and only then does Shiro pull back, wiping a palm across his mouth.

“Can we...?” Keith's asks. He's never been good with words and English Lit has only poorly equipped him with the right vocabulary for this. Feebly, his mind grasps for some sort of poetry – How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted the shirts from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart – but nothing quite seems to match the measure of this moment.

     All he knows is that he doesn't want to wait any longer, that they have no time to wait at all.  

     It's uncomfortable at first, even when it's just fingers, and he cants his elbows into the upholstery in lieu of tensing the rest of his body. But he weathers it, keeps his eyes on the prize, on Shiro's glowing face in front of him.  

“Be careful,” Shiro tells him intently as he unwraps another condom, “You always have to be careful when you do this with someone else.”

“I'm not gonna-” Keith protests. He doesn't want to think of the future and other people and why they would be there when Shiro isn't.

“Keith,” Shiro says, “Please.”

There is tension sitting at the corners of his mouth and Keith understands that, for once, this is not just about them. They've both read the side columns in the newspaper. They've seen people shake their heads over it and politicians dismiss it on TV.

Keith lowers his gaze.

“All right,” he relents quietly, “All right.”

His fingers shake as he helps roll the condom onto Shiro, but he tells himself its anticipation.

When he finally settles back along the seat, the bellflowers press up again his back, an uneven lump, but he does not bother to shove them away. There's another soft rock ballad freely flowing from the radio, lapping against the edges of his awareness like the surf against the shore.

Perhaps it was always meant to happen this way. The two of them, this town, this car, a Faraday cage protecting them from the vengeful lightening that strikes from the skies. Only the morrow. The morrow was supposed to be different, painted in pastel colors whenever Keith had tentatively allowed his mind to wander.

When Shiro breaches him, it's another of those odd thought-stopping moments of everything being just a little too much, body and brain unable to comprehend the conflicting sensations.

Mild pain, certainly, wedged somewhere underneath the overwhelming heat. A blunt edge of pleasure, manageable but with room for more. Love, unfailing, unfortunate, too young to be cut short so soon.

They fuck like this on the back-seat, fuck because Keith knows no other words for this, fuck gently because they know no other way. Shiro holds him, puts pointed kisses to Keith's pale neck, not question marks, not exclamations, but full-stops. Yet so many of them that Keith cannot help but read them as ellipses.

His hands roam the plains of Shiro's back moving above him, curve around the rolling shoulder blades, up along each singular vertebra. The black hair at the sides and back of Shiro's head has been freshly shorn, the crisp ends prickling against Keith's fingers that have known little more than a paper cut. Overcome, Keith hugs him close, presses Shiro's ear against the place where his own heart is wildly beating.

Just this, just once, he thinks, and hopes it translate into his every touch.

In answer, Shiro sweeps Keith's sweat-damp hair out of his forehead, kisses his eyelids, kisses away the tears that have spilled themselves down Keith's cheeks, unbidden yet irrevocable.

“Takashi,” Keith breathes, just barely. His back arches off the sticky leather.

“I've got you,” Shiro soothes, holding him close, “I've got you.”

Afterwards, when they are dressed and somewhat shy again, they rearrange themselves on the narrow backseat, Shiro's right draped over his shoulder, Keith burrowing into his side.

It's dark now, the movie long since over, the other cars gone. Only the moon somewhere, and fireflies, just enough to make out the tilt of Shiro's nose.

Keith's pinky is tangled in the thin chain around Shiro's neck, the dog tags clicking against his knuckles. The outline of Shiro's name, his number, his penicillin allergy are right at the fringes of his touch. And he wants to hate it, the war, the military, the officers and officials who make such decisions, but the truth is that they would never have met if Shiro had not been stationed here.

A small hurt spiteful part of him wonders whether maybe that would have been for the best.

But wasn't that humanity's age-old question? Whether any of this was worth it? Whether a handful of hours filled with joy and pleasure and good could make up for the cesspit of pain surrounding it?

“Be careful,” Shiro reiterates now, “In a small town like this, it's hard to lose the rumors.”

Keith knows that well enough. He's always been the odd one out, though. It wouldn't be the first unsavory story that had been spread about him, but so far there had never been any consequences. People talked a lot, but they rarely dared to act.

“When you come back,” he says instead, “We can move somewhere else.”

Perhaps he is still a child in this, valiantly holding on to the last of his hope. But Shiro was from the city. Shiro had grown up with neon lights and skyscrapers and bright bars in dark corners where people like them could easily blend into the scenery. And one day, maybe, they would have more than just shadows and echoes.

“Yeah,” Shiro says, indulgent as always, “I'd like that.”

One day, maybe. But until then...

Keith clenches his fist before pulling his wallet from his jacket pocket, slipping his old student ID from it and blindly shoving it at Shiro.

“Take- take this with you,” he says, very carefully not looking up, “I don't need it anymore and I don't have any other picture.”

The black and white photograph is small and grainy, outdated by the length of Keith's senior year, but it's something.

“Remember when I said I felt like a cradle robber?” Shiro asks, taking the flimsy plastic and inspecting the familiar name, the date of birth, “This doesn't help.”

“Shut up,” Keith huffs, “I graduated.”

For a moment, Shiro is silent. Then he slips the ID into his left breast pocket.

“Thanks,” he says and the knuckles of his other hand brush across Keith's cheekbone.

Keith loves the old Chevy. He loves how it takes up a lot of space and how Shiro still maneuvers it so effortlessly. He loves the feeling of the engine purring underneath him. He loves the time they had gotten milkshakes at the drive-through with Keith's classmate standing behind the little window and staring at them, open-mouthed.

Tonight, though, spent together in this car, he loves most of all, with its crushed flowers in the backseat, used condoms on the floor. They could crash right now and it would be perfection made flammable.

They are already pulling up to the sidewalk in front of the house again, though, and Keith never wants to leave. But the Earth cannot be kept from turning, the sun cannot be kept from rising, and Shiro gets out of the car without much ado, so Keith does the same. Time is sand between in his fingers and his heart is an earthquake.

The street is still quiet and unassuming, just as this whole town is always quiet and unassuming. The morning newspaper has not been delivered yet. The chess of war and politics sits at a stalemate.

Keith's puts a reluctant foot on the steps that lead to the front-porch. The aging wood protests under his weight, made heavier by the dread deep in his guts.

“So.” Shiro's voice is just above a whisper. He wipes his palms off on his pants. “This is it, I guess.”

Goodbye, the end, their last meeting. Keith's tongue is dead in his mouth.

Shiro just tries for an enouraging smile.

“I've got something for you, too,” he says and then takes Keith's hand to drop the car keys right into them.

Keith stares.

“What,” he says. His fingers spasm around the metal.

“I don't need it anymore,” Shiro echoes Keith's words from before, “And I want you to have it.”

Keith swallows.

“How will you get back to the barracks?” he asks.

“I'll just walk.”

“It's too far.”

The smile does not waver.

“I got my memories to keep me company,” Shiro says, “And a buddy of mine is manning the gate tonight, so he's going to let me in no problem.”

Keith tries to swallow, but it's difficult, tries to speak but it's impossible. His hand curls around the keys, tightening until the ragged edges dig into his skin.

“Just... for safe-keeping,” he manages to get out eventually, his tone brokering no argument, “Not for forever.”

“'course not,” Shiro agrees, “So keep her clean, will ya?”

The car sits by the curb and they kiss by the front door, almost unremarkable with how chaste it is, how soft. Shiro's leans in and his lips linger for a moment but, when he pulls back, his eyes stay even longer. His thumb is rubbing circles against Keith's wrist, his panicked pulse.

“See ya,” he says as he has done every time since that first day, and Keith gives a jerky little nod.

“See ya,” he says, his own voice somewhere between fragile and rough.

Shiro steps down the stairs, backwards, never looking away as though trying to brandish the sight of Keith into his retinas. The gravel in the driveway crunches underneath his boots. Then he winks and turns away.

Private Takashi Shirogane walks off into the early morning hours.

Keith stays behind.

[notorious-gonzo]

Upcoming SMTM6′s “unknown rappers” you may want to know pt. 1

As we all know, SMTM6 is drawing near and since a lot of rappers I regularly listen to signed up for this hellish drama, I once again decided to cast some light on those unfortunate, less-known souls which - imo - deserve the attention they sadly quite don’t get.

Used some info from well-made hiphopkr.com article so don’t forget to check that out as well!

Asol [IG | SC] (underground female rapper with distinct voice, from Sbenu crew, released a mixtape Datura in 2014) + Datura + Robin Hood + Bullpen

Bray [SC | IG] (artist under Mystic Ent., appeared on SMTM5 and lost 1v1 against Donutman, is not really active, at least not on his SC, does a lot of featurings tho) + Wing Chun-like Rap + Keep Ballin’ (as featuring artist)  

Ignito [IG | YT] (is a veteran / 1st generation rapper, Vitality crew, aside from his collab. with fellow crew member Hunger Noma from one yr ago does not seem to be really active, probably wants to use SMTM5 as his big return) + Creepy Crawly + Oracle (with Hunger Noma)

Jay Moon [FB | IG | SC] (from Prima Music Group, former artist of Independent Records and GVOY, apparently participated on SMTM3 and 5, released EP Up in the Sky just recently) + Special Day + Ease Remix

LeellaMarz [FB | SC | IG] (tiny fellow who briefly appeared on SMTM5 under name Lilla Mars and lost against Superbee during 1v1, is in crew Wayside Town) + Get It + Choice

New Champ [SC | YT] (former Jiggy Fellaz member, was in a trio called NomNomNom, disses a lot, SMTM4 contestant, 4 mixtapes in da house, releases new stuff quite regularly, Sin&Punishment seems like his newest project?) + Okaka Chuka + Yahage + 민트마스크를 쓰고

Quaimo [SC | IG | FB] (member of Prima Music Group, recently released mixtape G.U.R.N, did some number of collabs with Holmes Crew members) + G.U.R.N + Bang Bang + Call Me Daddy

Simba Zawadi [IG | FB | SC] (Awaken Tongues member, one of the two ‘diss’ rappers - other being Khundi Panda - in SMTM5 and got eliminated in 2nd round, did a collab. mixtape together with Kim Hyo Eun, was an opening act on BewhY’s Canada Tour, 2 mixtapes) + Blaze †o WINDWARD + 용기 + Rolex

Bully Da Ba$tard [SC | FB | IG] (competed on School Rapper, after that he kinda cleared his SC tracklist which used to be way fuller, recently released Lonely Dawn) + Alone + New God Freestyle   

J’Kyun [IG] (participated on SMTM2 and 5, former member of Lucky J, member of Louis.B w/ singer Kuan and Fresh Boyz w/ Ceejay, collaborated with lots of artists including Zico, Ailee, Rex.D, Jooheon and so on) + Hmmbbuk + Polaroid  

JINDOGGAE [SC | IG | YT] (Finest Records’ artist, Krosshartz crew, 2nd place on SMTM1, eliminated in 2nd preliminary round of SMTM5) + 읍읍 + 언더독

Junoflo [SC | IG | YT | FB | twitter] (Korean-American artist, recently signed up with Feel Ghood Music, Native Souls and Good Loox ?crews?, big hit of SMTM5, alas unfortunately lost to Hash Swan, his popularity skyrocketed after his elimination) + Deja Vu  + Fables

Kebee [IG | FB] (Brand New Music, Eluphant duo w/ Minos, founded Soul Company alongside The Quiett in 2004, was in Standart Music Group before rollin’ into BNM, another underground ‘legend’, recently released new EP Water) + Narcissism + Ya 

KK [twitter | YT] (also known as KeiKei, currently signed under Brofit Records, used to be under Sniper Records and in Buddha Baby crew, speedrap, interesting voice, album Matador, mixtape Lost Tape)  + Hip Hop is my life + Fuckstrider

Marvel.J [IG | SC | FB] (leader of DNH crew, recently established new label All Right Music w/ Basick, B.O and Big Tray, was in London during Rockbottom x DNH gig, released album Graduation not so long ago) + Forgive Me + Most Wanted DNH      

NO:EL [SC | IG | YT] (Prima Music Group, also competed on School Rapper)  + IDFWU + Goodbye

[ohsharethekmusic]

Song : Keep It Real

Artist : Simba Zawadi & Kenny Raw

Album {Mixtape} : The Late Night Mixtape